


Joyeux Noel

by sev313



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/pseuds/sev313
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny’s parents are coming to town for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joyeux Noel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 happyhockeydays exchange.

“Fuck, Jonny.”

Pat pulls his knees closer to his chest, opening himself up wider and encouraging Jonny to thrust faster, harder. Jonny braces himself above Pat’s head, pushing Pat’s body back into his arm and Pat groans. His lower lip feels raw, abused, where he’s been biting into it, and Jonny leans down to worry at the spot. Their angle changes just enough for the head of Jonny’s cock to rub at just the right spot, and Pat’s entire body convulses, his ass tightening around Jonny. “Yes, right there. Jesus. Again. Please-”

Jonny frowns in concentration as he tries to keep the angle, but his hands are slippery and after a couple thrusts he loses his grip, falling so that their chests are pressed together. “Sorry, fuck.”

Pat grins, turning his head to kiss Jonny’s sweaty hair, Jonny’s face tucked into his neck. He loosens the death grip he has on his knees, stretching them out and wrapping them around Jonny’s waist. This new position has its advantages, too, and he flexes his hips, rubbing his dripping cock against Jonny’s stomach.

“Mmm, I’m good,” Pat whispers, raking his fingertips down Jonny’s back and pressing him closer, whimpering as he humps against Jonny, searching for more friction.

“Hey, hey,” Jonny soothes him, rising to his elbows and twisting a hand between their bodies, grasping Pat in his fingers.

“Yes, god,” Pat’s head rolls back, eyes closed, and Jonny can’t take his eyes off him as he starts to thrust again.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers, his hips losing their rhythm as he thrusts franticly. “Cum, Pat, cum for me.”

And Pat does, arching off the bed and spilling over Jonny’s fingers, his body twitching until Jonny lets go of him to brace himself on either side of Pat’s head. “Okay?”

Pat nods, whining in the back of his throat, and Jonny thrusts once, hard. His breath is labored, uneven, and his vision is clouding by the time Pat tightens his thighs and Jonny cums, pulsing and twitching in Pat’s body.

When he comes back to himself, he’s collapsed on top of Pat, his body heavy on Pat’s much smaller frame. He grunts an apology, rolling to the side and wincing with Pat as his soft cock slips from Pat’s body.

They lie like that for a long while, panting and staring at the ceiling, shoulders pressed together. Until Pat shifts, stretching his legs and feeling Jonny’s cum leak, sticky and wet, down his thighs. “Shower,” he mumbles, staggering up and making it to the bathroom with his eyes closed.

He stands on the mat while he waits for the water to warm up, his arms crossed against his chest against the cold. Jonny joins him right when the water gets warm. He pulls back the curtain and helps Pat over the edge of the tub.

“Mmm,” Jonny murmurs, pulling Pat to him so that they’re both under the spray. He trails his hand down Pat’s back, spreading his ass cheeks and sticking a finger in him, twisting his knuckle and making sure that he’s clean. Pat squirms, uncomfortable, but Jonny holds him still, kissing along his jaw and up to his ear, nipping at the skin behind it. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispers, his breath hot and warm.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Pat whispers, his lips moving across Jonny’s collarbone.

“I know.” Jonny twists his finger and Pat groans. “I know it’s only going to be a couple days, but, I’m going to miss this.”

Pat goes still. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jonny frowns, pulling his lips away and shaking his head to get the water out of his eyes. “This weekend. When my parents are here.” Pat’s glowering at him, and Jonny squints his eyes. “I told you that. Remember?”

“You told me that your parents are coming,” Pat says, pulling away and flinching again as Jonny’s finger drops from his sore ass. “But, I didn’t realize that meant that I wouldn’t get to see you over Christmas.”

Jonny reaches out to brush a wet curl off of Pat’s forehead. “You’ll see me. Just, you know, no sex in the shower.” Jonny grins, but it quickly fades when Pat doesn’t return it.

“You haven’t told them, have you?”

Jonny bites his lip and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Pat takes a step forward, reaching up to press a kiss to Jonny’s jaw. “It’s okay. We’ll tell them this weekend.”

“Pat-” Jonny warns. They’ve had this conversation, over and over again, and it always ends the same, with both of them angry and frustrated and Jonny doesn’t understand why Pat keeps bringing it up when he already knows the outcome. “It’s not the right time, okay?”

Jonny tightens his hand on Pat’s hip, trying to pull him closer, but Pat is stronger than his stature would suggest and he snaps back, twisting away from Jonny and almost tripping on the slippery bottom of the tub. Jonny swears, turning off the water and wrapping a towel around his waist as he follows Pat into the bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

Pat doesn’t look up from the duffel bag he’s throwing things into. “I need to be somewhere else right now.”

Jonny sighs, rubbing a second towel over his head. “Stop overreacting.”

Pat glances around him, making sure that he hasn’t missed anything major, not that he can really see straight at the moment. Shrugging, he zips up the bag and slips the strap over his shoulder. “If you think I’m overreacting, then this obviously means more to me than it does to you.”

He pushes past Jonny, but Jonny grabs his wrist. Pat stares down at where their skin is touching. He swallows. “I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers, his voice raw. He’s feeling embarrassed and lost and hurt, and he knows it must be in his tone, ‘cause Jonny drops his wrist as if burned. Pat walks away without another look back.  
***  
Pat’s hands are raw from banging on the door. Chicago’s had a record snow fall in December, and he’s freezing. It hadn’t crossed his mind to grab a hat or gloves, and his wet hair is now frozen to his forehead. He knows he must make a pathetic sight, and it’s confirmed when Seabs yanks open the door.

“Something had better be on fire.” Seabs stops when he catches sight of Pat. “Kaner?”

“Can I-” Pat’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Seabs steps back and Pat, whose feet are cold and numb, sort of stumbles past him. He drops his bag in the hallway and Seabs shuts the door. Pat notices that Seabs’ hair is a mess, and he’s only wearing low-slung drawstring pants. Pat blushes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Seabs shrugs, tilting his head to get a better look at Pat. “You look terrible.”

Pat looks at the floor, not sure that he can say anything past the lump in his throat.

“Alright, alright. You know where the guestroom is. We can talk in the morning.”

The guestroom is across the hall from the master bedroom, and the walls aren’t very thick. Pat doesn’t hear them start anything, though. He doesn’t know whether to feel guilty that he ruined their night as well as his own, or to feel thankful for their thoughtfulness.  
***  
Any happy feelings are gone by the morning. Pat feels like he has a hangover, his head heavy and pounding. He hopes he’s not catching a cold, but his throat is raw and, by the time he gets out of a scalding shower, his noise is running. Digging through his duffel bag, he realizes that the only comfortable pants he grabbed are Jonny’s. He debates for a moment, before pulling them on. They look ridiculous, dragging on the ground even after Pat rolls the waistband over a few times.

Part of him wants to lock himself away in this guestroom forever, but the smell of coffee is intoxicating. He grabs the box of tissues he stole from the bathroom and shuffles into the kitchen. Duncs is already at the table, sipping his coffee and eating a pile of eggs. He points to the seat next to him and Pat sits down. Seabs is suddenly hovering over him, with a mug of coffee and another plate of eggs.

“Thanks,” Pat whispers, coughing and frowning as he grabs a tissue from the box. “Fuck.”

Duncan peers at him over his coffee. “Rough night last night?”

Pat rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me stay. I turned off the electricity in my place months ago.” He still keeps the apartment, for appearances sake, and sometimes he drops by to pick up the mail that he can’t risk sending to Jonny’s, but, other than that, he has nothing to do with it.

Pat sneezes again, and he starts a little Kleenex pile next to his plate. The coffee tastes good, though, soothing his throat as it goes down. Seabs disappears for a moment and when he comes back he has his own breakfast and an Advil cold and sinus. Pat takes it gratefully.

“Coach Q is going to kill me if I come in sick,” Pat smiles ruefully.

“Serves you right for standing out in the snow in the middle of the night without a hat.”

Seabs sounds like his mother and Pat frowns. “I know. I forgot to grab one. It was stupid.”

Duncan puts a gentle hand on Pat’s wrist. “What happened last night?”

Pat looks down at the table, picking at a sliver until Duncan swats his hand. He sighs. “Jonny’s parents are coming this weekend. He doesn’t want me around.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Duncan is looking at him with that sincere look he gets every time Pat and Jonny get into these little spats, as if them making-up is inevitable. Pat doesn’t really believe it this time, but it’s a nice gesture anyways.

Pat shrugs. “He doesn’t wanna tell them about us.” He can feel Duncs and Seabs exchange a look over his head, but he plows ahead. “And I know it’s stupid, but it’s _Christmas_ and I love him and I want to _be with_ him. Why doesn’t he want that, too?”

Pat’s overtaken by a coughing fit and he buries his nose in a Kleenex. When he’s done, Seabs is looking at him sympathetically. “He loves you. I know that.”

“He loves me when he’s fucking me.” Pat sighs, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know anymore. I thought-” He swallows. He’s had similar conversations with Duncs and Seabs in the past, but he’s never admitted this before. “I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with him. But, Jonny, I’m not sure I’m not just a really good screw for him.” He knows he’s being harsh, but he’s hurt and he really doesn’t know how to get past this.

“You’re more than that.” Seabs tell him, but Pat just shrugs and picks up his fork.

“These are good,” he tells Seabs, trying to smile and he knows it doesn’t really work, but they seem to get that he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“What’d you ask Santa for this year?” Seabs asks him, his eyes twinkling, and Pat throws a piece of scrambled eggs at him with a little smile of his own.  
***  
Pat’s still coughing and sneezing all through practice, and the cold of the ice combined with the stress of seeing Jonny again leaves his whole body sore and aching by the time they get back in the locker room. He can feel Jonny watching him, knows that he should be a bigger man about this, shrugging it off and acting like nothing is wrong, around the team at least, but Pat feels like shit and he just can’t do it.

Seabs is watching Jonny watching Pat, and he isn’t really surprised when Jonny corners him the moment Pat leaves for the showers.

“How is he?”

“Miserable,” Seabs says before he can convince himself that lying to his Captain is his duty or something.

Jonny flinches. “I’m glad he came to you last night. That he was safe.”

“Look, I know we shouldn’t even be having this conversation.” Seabs kicks off a skate and hangs it in his locker before doing the same with the other. He sits back down and holds Jonny’s eyes. “But, Pat loves you. Soulmate, forever, til-teath-do-us-part kind of loves you. And if you don’t feel the same, do us all a favor and end things _now_ so that Duncs and I can start picking up the pieces for real.”

Jonny stares at him, flushed red, some combination of anger and embarrassment and Seabs whishes that he could tell which Jonny was leaning towards. But, as it is, he’s said too much, so he grabs his towel and pats Jonny’s shoulder on the way to the shower.  
***  
By Wednesday, Pat’s cold is starting to get better. But that was only half the problem, so he plunks himself onto the couch after practice with no intention of moving all day. Except that Duncan seems to have other ideas.

“Grocery store, come on.”

Pat looks up at Duncs pleadingly. “Can’t I just stay here?”

“Nope.” He disappears into the kitchen and comes back with one of those reusable grocery bags and a list. Somehow, the fact that Duncs and Seabs go grocery shopping enough to need a reusable bag makes Pat laugh. Duncan glares at him. “If you’re going to be staying here, you need to start pulling your weight.”

Sighing heavily, Pat drags himself up and toes on his shoes. The grocery store is packed three days before Christmas. As if sensing that Pat can’t really deal with the people, he hands him the list and tells him to read the things off. It’s written in Seabs messy script, and Pat has to squint at it before he can make out things like “eggs,” “butter,” and “milk.”

“What are we making?” He asks as Duncan puts a can of pumpkin into the cart.

Duncan shrugs. “Pumpkin pie? Seabs was in charge of deciding what we’re bringing to the Christmas Party.”

Pat had almost forgotten about the party in his hurry to forget that the holidays are coming up. He wonders if he should bring something, too, but from the look of the cart Seabs is planning on baking enough things to cover all three of them.

“Okay, what else?”

“Frosting. It’s the last thing on the list.”

Duncan steers them over to the frosting section. They stare at it for a moment, not really sure what Seabs needs, so they grab one of every flavor and head to the checkout. Pat is more than ready to be done with all the people.

By now, though, he really should know better than to make widespread wishes like, _I wish I wasn’t in this grocery store anymore,_ ‘cause the minute they get home, Seabs puts them both to work. Patrick is elbow-deep in flour before he knows what he’s doing, rolling a ball of dough around.

“Um,” He glances around. “What am I supposed to with this?”

Seabs reaches across the kitchen island to hand him a rolling pin. “Roll it out. It’s going to be gingerbread cookies.”

Pat pinches a little piece from the ball and tastes it, scrunching his nose and grabbing for the class of eggnog Duncs had poured for him after he had tasted the pumpkin mixture before it was cooked. “This tastes nothing like gingerbread.”

Seabs glares at him. “It’s not cooked yet.”

“Are you sure? I mean, usually batter tastes good, right? Did you follow a recipe?”

Seabs glares at him, and Pat starts rolling the dough before Seabs can decide to hit him with the rolling pin. “Just for that, you don’t get any, asshole. And, yes, I did follow a recipe. It’s Duncs’ grandmother’s. She gave it me after Christmas last year, when Duncs ate a whole batch by himself.”

“You asked her for it?” Duncs is giving his partner the sappiest look Pat has seen in months and he rolls his eyes. But when Seabs passes Duncs on the way to the oven and allows himself to be pulled down for a kiss, his hair caked in flower from Duncan’s white hands, Pat’s stomach churns and he focuses really hard on rolling out the dough.  
***  
Abby greets them at the door for the Christmas party. She and Sharpy had wanted to show off their house, as if somehow it’s different now that they’re married and it’s true, something does feel different, warmer, cozier. Although that could also be due to the fire and the Christmas cookies and the spiked eggnog.

It really is a nice affair. Coaches and families are here, Turks’ kids running around Pat’s feet and begging him to play Rudolph tag with him. Pat doesn’t really understand the rules, but when it ends he’s wearing a red foam nose, and he sort of thinks that he’s lost.

“Nose looks good on you,” Sharpy mentions conversationally, leaning back against the wall next to him so that their shoulders are touching.

Pat glowers at him, ripping the nose off and shoving it in his pocket. “Rudolph tag. I won, apparently.”

It’s an outright lie and Sharpy laughs. “Right.”

“This is, um, it’s a nice party. I haven’t seen Abby in a while, but tell her so.”

Sharpy nods, his gaze trailing across the room to the one spot Pat’s _not_ been staring at all night. “He’s watching you.”

Pat pushes off the wall. “I’m going to get hammered. You wanna come?”

Sharpy shakes his head, so Pat goes alone. He knows there’s some saying about alcoholism leading to drinking alone or something, but he doesn’t really care. Except, he gets hijacked halfway to the punchbowl.

“Pat.” Pat turns around and is engulfed in a huge from Andrée Toews. “It’s so nice to see you. I talked to your mom this morning, and she mentioned that you’re not going home for Christmas.”

“Yeah.” _‘Cause I was supposed to be fucking your son all holiday_ , he wants to add, but bites his tongue just in time.

Andrée looks at him sympathetically. “You should come to Jonny’s for Christmas Eve.”

Pat holds up a hand, hoping that she’ll take it as polite refusal rather than the utter terror that it is. “No, no, it’s okay. Duncan and Brent and I are going to have a quiet night, old movies, eggnog. It’s going to be nice.”

“Oh, dear, you should be spending Christmas with family.” She smiles at him and his chest aches. “I insist, really.”

“But-” Pat puts up a meager protest, but Bryan Toews comes up behind him and slaps him on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t argue with the woman.”

Pat smiles weakly up at him. “Alright. Thank you, Mrs. Toews, it’s really very nice of you.”

“No need to thank me, dear. We’ll be glad to have you. And I know Jonny will, too.” She pats his cheek lightly.

They move away to talk to Coach Q and his wife, and Pat looks around franticly, finding Seabs next to the punch bowl, deep in conversation with Hammer, and makes a beeline for him. When he gets there, he bounces on his feet, waiting for them to finish, before growing impatient and tapping Seabs shoulder.

“I need to get drunk, and eggnog’s not gonna cut it. You coming?”

Seabs raises an eyebrow, but Hammer’s eyes light up. “Dancing. Is good.”

“You’re in. Good. Where’s Duncs?” Pat searches around, feeling a little panicked and light-headed, as if he stays in this room, with Jonny making nice with Rocky and Jonny’s parents calling him _dear_ and _family_ for one minute longer he might just do something really stupid.

“He’s talking to Abby in the kitchen.” Seabs tells him, frowning a bit now. “Pat, what happened?”

“Good.” Pat waves away Seabs’ question. “We can thank her on our way out.”

Seabs waffles for a minute, but he does put down his cup and follow Pat into the kitchen. Abby and Duncan are in the kitchen alone, preparing another batch of eggnog and chatting lightly. Abby smiles at them as they come in. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yes,” Pat tells her, grasping her hand and kissing her cheek. “You’ve done wonders with this place. Unfortunately, we have to go. Will you tell Sharpy sorry and thank you for us?”

She bites her lip, nodding. She pulls Pat into a quick hug. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” She sounds nervous and apprehensive, and Pat gets the feeling that she understands a lot more than she should.  
***  
They don’t go to clubs all that often. Most of the guys prefer bars, and there’s something about the anonymous masses at clubs that makes Pat feel more exposed, but, tonight, he doesn’t really care. Not after he takes a shot and downs a beer before Duncs and Seabs can catch up with him and signal the bartender to cut him off.

“Assholes.”

Seabs glares at him. “You’re being fucking stupid tonight.”

“Fuck you.” Pat finishes the rest of his second beer and slams it on the counter. He scans the crowd, catching sight of Hammer dancing with a pretty blond thing in the middle of the floor. He sets off in that direction without a second word.

He’s not a good dancer. He has a couple moves, but nothing spectacular, and the guys end up laughing at him more often than not. He also has no interest in the brunette who’s attached herself to his front. She seems disappointed that nothing’s happening as she rubs against him and he sighs, pushing her away.

He’s about to give up and return to the bar when he’s pushed into a strong, hard body. He turns, prepared for the yelling and the possible punch, but the guy is just staring at him, eyeing him up and down with a raised eyebrow. Pat smiles, reaching a hand out to rest on the guy’s waist, pulling him close.

Never mind that the guy is tall and dark, all muscles and sinew and looking all too familiar. Never mind that they’re in a club, and he’s pretty sure the brunette recognized him and it’s not such a far cry to think that this guy might recognize him, too. He doesn’t really care much right now, his head fuzzy and unfocused, and when the guy pulls him close, Pat can feel the length of his cock pressing into Pat’s hip and it feels good.

The hand on Pat’s hip slips under his shirt, and Pat’s skin feels warm and clammy. He rubs against the knee bent between his legs, moaning as he grows harder in his dress pants. He knows that he’s desperate and drunk, but it makes him feel powerful to know that he’s having an effect on this stranger, an affirmation that he’s liked and he’s hot and that he can turn someone on in such a primal, animalistic way.

He’s pulled even closer, hands and limbs all around him. He’s scarily close to coming _right now_ , grinding in the middle of the dance floor in a flood of strangers and possible cameras. He buries his head into the stranger’s shoulder, panting and sighing and groaning into warm skin when, suddenly, he’s rutting against air and he reaches out to steady himself on an arm that feels strong and familiar.

“Patrick.”

And that’s Jonny’s voice, warm in his ear, Jonny’s hands gripping him and pulling him through the crowd. The cold December air hits him hard, his sweaty skin goosebumping as he clings to Jonny’s bicep. “What are you doing here?”

Jonny ignores him, pushing him into the alleyway next to the club and throwing him against the wall, hands bracketing Pat’s face as he kisses him. It’s hot and desperate, Jonny’s tongue pushing franticly into his mouth. Pat braces his hands on Jonny’s hips, pulling him closer and _yes, fuck_ , that’s Jonny’s cock thrusting against him.

Jonny pulls back, biting at Pat’s lip. “What the fuck were you doing?”

Pat blinks up at him, feeling his knees start to give way and having to focus hard to keep from falling to the ground. “Dancing?”

“Fuck, Pat.” The _you’re mine_ is implied, but Pat really whishes that he’d just fucking say it. The cold air is beginning to clear a little of the dizziness from Pat’s head, and the anger’s starting to return.

“How the fuck did you find me?”

“Abby told me where you were going.”

Pat groans, banging his head back against the brick and groaning. Jonny kisses him again and Pat doesn’t have it in him to fight. Not when it’s been days and his body is physically aching for Jonny’s touch.

When Jonny pulls back, his expression is some mixture of anger and hurt and desperation. “Don’t _ever_ do that to me again.” And he’s sinking to his knees.

The alley is a mess and Jonny is still in dress pants and the ridiculous red and green tie he wore to the Christmas party, although it’s loose and askew around his neck. He glances up at Pat through his eyelashes as he undoes Pat’s belt with a clink and pulls Pat’s cock into the cold air. Pat shivers, half from the chill and half from the way Jonny’s lips part obscenely around the head of his erection.

They’ve done this hundreds of times, but it’s never felt so _perfect_. Jonny shifts on the ground, taking Pat as far as he can before pulling all the way out and doing it again. He uses just enough teeth to put Pat at the edge long before he wants to be, and Pat warns him, wrapping Jonny’s hair around his fingers.

Jonny gets the message, reaching up to pull on Pat’s balls, stemming his orgasm. Pat groans, resting his head back against the wall and peering down at Jonny through half-lidded eyes, unwilling to stop looking at him for one moment, not when he’s like this, so dirty and uninhibited and Pat’s never seen this side of him before.

Jonny’s working him hard, mouth and hands everywhere, wet and sloppy. His tongue flattens against the vein on the underside of Pat’s cock and Pat groans. “Jesus, Jonny, I’ve never _been_ this hard before.”

Jonny pulls away and grins at him, ignoring Pat’s hands in his hair, urging him forward. Jonny takes his time, leaning back and palming his own cock. It’s so hot that Pat groans, pre-cum leaking against his dress shirt and he has to close his eyes not to cum.

When he opens them again, Jonny leans forward and kisses the tip gently before opening his lips and taking him all the way in, relaxing his throat and letting the head slip past. He holds there until his eyes begin to water and he pulls back slightly, Pat shivering and whimpering, falling apart in this alleyway.

“I love you,” Jonny whispers, before leaning forward and doing it again. It’s too much, too hot, too wet, too everything, and Pat cums with a cry deep down Jonny’s throat. He grips the wall with his sweaty hands, feeling himself shatter, and allows Jonny to hold him through it, his head cradled in the crook of Jonny’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he breathes, dropping a hand down to palm Jonny’s erection through his pants.

Jonny bats his hand away. “Come home.”

Pat frowns. “As your best friend or as your partner?”

Jonny pauses and Pat pushes him away. He trips on his pants and pulls them up, doing the button as he stumbles to the corner and raises his hand. The tears wait until he falls into the cab.  
***  
“Get up.”

“Go away.” Pat rolls over and pulls a pillow over his head. Duncan yanks it away and Seabs bounces on the bed next to him. Pat glares at him. “Fuck off.”

“Nope.” Seabs grins at him. “Get up. Shower. Dress.”

“I wanna sleep. My head hurts.”

Duncan shakes his head. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. It’ll help.”

Pat sighs, but he knows they won’t go away until he complies, so he throws back the covers and heads to the bathroom. He really is a mess, his clothes sticky with sweat and cum and he’s tempted to throw them away, but he drops them into the dry cleaning pile instead. He turns the water as hot as possible, letting it burn his skin away, taking with it any thoughts of last night. Not that it’s very successful.

When he’s out, Duncan and Seabs are waiting for him with a mug of coffee and his coat. “Dress warm.”

“Where are we going?” Pat grumbles, wishing that he hadn’t left his boots at the apartment.

“You’ll see.”  
***  
Pat’s _really_ wishing that he had brought his boots as he stands in the snow, shivering. “Can’t we just get one from a boy scout?”

“Spoil sport.”

“How about this one?” Seabs points out a tree, but Duncs shakes his head.

Pat grumbles as he follows them down the row. “This is a waste of a good Christmas tree. It’s gonna be up for like two days, then you’re going to have to take it down again. Who gets a tree the day before Christmas Eve?”

Duncan shrugs. “It’s the spirit that matters.”

“How about this one?” Seabs waves them over and Duncan walks around the tree, looking intently at it from ever angle. Pat shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Jonny blew me in the alley last night.”

Seabs glares at him. “You’re ruining the spirit.”

Pat shrugs. “Just figured you’d wanna know.”

“Mmm.” Seabs holds out the saw when Duncan nods his head. Pat steps out of the way, but he does help them wrap the thing in twine and get it on the top of Seabs’ car.

It’s not so easy to get it down again, and no one’s feeling all that festive by the time they get the thing into a holder in the living room. It’s a little lop-sided, but Duncs is refusing to get under it again to adjust it. He’s still pulling pine needles from his hair when Seabs appears from their bedroom with a box of ornaments and garlands.

Most of the ornaments are from childhood, crosses with _Brent_ scrawled in crayon, or ceramic skates with _Duncan_ engraved across the blade. Even the angel on the top has skates and a hockey helmet under its halo. Seabs sets it straight on top, stepping back to take a look at the final product. It’s a little weird, but, well, Duncs and Seabs are a little weird.

“What do you think?”

Pat sinks deeper into the couch. “It’s nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Pat groans. “It’s a damn tree.”

“It’s a _Christmas_ tree.” As if that explains everything.

Pat sighs, burrowing further into the couch. “I miss him.”

Duncan sits down next to him and Pat curls into his side, head resting on Duncs’ chest. Duncs runs a hand through his hair. “It’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry I’m being miserable. It really is a nice tree.”  
***  
Pat fiddles with his tie as he rings the doorbell to his own apartment. It’s ridiculous how nervous he feels, shuffling his feet in the snow and ignoring the way his dress shoes are growing white with salt.

“Merry Christmas, Pat.” Andrée opens the door with a grin, ushering him in.

“Merry Christmas. This is for you.” He kisses her on the cheek and hands her the expensive bottle of wine and the little slice of Brie he brought. “The cheese is Jonny’s favorite.”

“How thoughtful.” She takes his coat and he glances around. There’s a tree in the living room, decorated beautifully, and the mantle hung with three stockings. The dining room table is set with candles and holiday-themed plates that must have been in their storage unit ‘cause Pat’s never seen them before. It’s hard to remember that just a few days ago he was throwing his stuff in a pile on that table and cuddling with Jonny in front of that mantle. He feels like a stranger now.

“Can I help you in the kitchen?” He begs her silently to say _yes_ , but she just shakes her head.

“No, I’m fine. Go join the boys. They’re in the den, watching TV.” She rolls her eyes and Pat nods, moving slowly towards the den. He hopes that she’ll call him back, remember that, yes, she does need help finishing the potatoes, but she doesn’t and, when he gets to the den, he has no choice but to enter the room.

“Hey.”

“Patrick. Come join us. We’re watching the ball game.” Bryan ushers him over. He’s sitting in the chair, so Pat has no choice but to sit next to Jonny on the couch.

“Merry Christmas.” Pat says, leaning back and glancing at Jonny. Jonny’s staring at him, and Pat’s frustrated that he doesn’t know anymore if it’s longing he sees there. There was a time, just a couple days ago, when he could read Jonny so well.

Bryan is really into the game, but Pat can’t convince himself to relax enough to pay attention to it. He’s hyper-aware of himself, afraid that he’s going to give something away with a hand movement or the way he crosses his legs or that he chose the wrong tie. He hasn’t felt this uncomfortable with himself since he was twelve years old and kissing his first girl on the back porch.

He’s not sure if it’s a consolation or not, but he can feel every one of Jonny’s movements next to him. Jonny is fidgeting and shifting as much as he is and, finally, Pat leans over. “You okay?”

Jonny turns, their noses almost touching and Pat starts to pull back, but Jonny drops a hand down to rest on Pat’s where it sit on the couch between them. “You look good,” Jonny whispers, before letting go and allowing Pat to scoot back to the other side of the couch before Jonny’s dad can notice anything.

Jonny doesn’t stop staring at him, though, and Pat takes the opportunity to notice how awful Jonny looks. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his suit is hanging looser than it should. Pat had thought he looked okay two nights ago, but it was late and dark and he was drunk, so he supposes he could have missed this, but he can’t now. His stomach flips and he turns back to the game.

“Dinner’s ready,” Andrée calls from the kitchen, and Bryan turns off the game reluctantly. Pat half-expects Jonny to hold him back, but he doesn’t.

He takes the wine Andrée hands him gratefully, taking a large gulp before forcing himself to slow down. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to get drunk tonight. He buries himself in his plate instead. “This is delicious. Thank you for having me.”

She reaches over to pat his forearm. “You’re family, Patrick. We’re glad you’re here.”

Pat glances over at Jonny, whose face is pained. Pat sighs. “I’m glad I’m here, too.” And it’s true, even though it’s awkward and his heart is doing summersaults, it’s still better to be here, with Jonny, than not. Under the table, Jonny runs his foot up Pat’s calf and Pat closes his eyes.

When he opens them, it’s to see Andrée ’s eyes gleaming back at him. “Your mother said that you were staying in town because you wanted to spend Christmas with someone special.” Jonny nearly chokes on his asparagus and Andrée glances at him. “Don’t eat so fast, Jonathan.”

“Yes, mom.”

And Pat thought that maybe the coughing fit would get him out of answering her, but she’s looking at him expectantly and he puts down his fork, staring at his plate and unable to meet her gaze. “Um, yeah, I was, but, um, we had a fight and I’m not really wanted anymore.”

Jonny’s foot jabs his ankle and he glances up to see Jonny shaking his head at him. He mouths, “not true,” but Pat just drops his head again.

“Pat, dear.” Her voice is firm, and when he looks up, she has her hands crossed and she’s talking to the middle of the table as much as she is to him. “Christmas is the time to love and forgive. You still love this person?”

“So much.” Pat says, without a pause.

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

Pat shrugs. “It’s not up to me.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Jonny throws down his napkin.

Andrée glares at her son. “Language, Jon.”

“Mom, dad,” Jonny looks at Pat and Pat glances up, his mouth wide. “It’s me, okay? Pat’s in love with me, and I love him, too.” He’s staring intently at Pat. “I’m sorry. It’s Christmas and I love you and I never really cared who knows. I was just being an idiot. Forgive me?”

Pat’s grinning from ear to ear. He nods and Jonny grins back, before glancing at his mother and the grin disappears when he sees that she’s crying. “Mama?”

She waves him away. “Oh, these are happy tears, sweetheart.”

“What?” He asks, glancing at his father, who just rolls his eyes and passes his napkin over so that Andrée can dab at her eyes.

“I was hoping,” she sniffs behind her smile, looking back and forth between Jonny and Pat. “When your mother told me that you weren’t coming home for the holidays, I hoped that it meant that you two had taken your heads out of your asses and realized how much you loved each other.” Jonny’s gaping at her and she reaches over to tap his chin. “Stop gaping, it’s not polite.”

“But-“ Jonny splutters. “I was so _worried_ about telling you.”

She shakes her head. “I’ve known since the first time I saw you guys together.”

Jonny shakes his head, glancing over at his dad. “Dad?”

He shrugs. “Your mother told me three years ago that this would happen and that I’d better get used to it.”

“And?”

“I’m good. As long as you’re happy.”

Jonny nods. “I am, I am. God, I was such an _idiot_. I almost ruined the best thing I’ll ever have for _nothing_.”

“Let this be a lesson for you. And you,” she turns her glare on Pat. “Call your mother.”

“Yes ma’am.”

There are a lot of tears and “I told you so”s from the Kane family, as well, and they only get to sign off of Skype after Pat promises his sisters that he and Jonny will visit them soon. Pat closes the computer and sits back in his chair. “I’m drained.”

Jonny’s silent and Pat rolls his head to look at him. Jonny looks miserable, biting his lip as he drops his head to the side. “Will you stay tonight?”

Pat swallows. “Do you want me to?”

Jonny nods. “Yes.”

“I’ve never felt like such a stranger in my own home as I did this evening. I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

Jonny clears his throat. “When I saw you with that guy the other day, in the club? I never want to feel that again, either.”

“Call it even?”

“Deal.”

Pat leans forward and Jonny kisses him, sweet and slow and Pat’s whole body aches. “When your parents leave, you’re going to fuck me for days.”

Jonny chuckles. “That I can do.”  
***  
When they head back into the living room, Andrée has set out cookies and hot chocolate and she and Bryan are on one couch, reading _The Night Before Christmas_ in French. Jonny takes a seat on the other couch and, after Pat hesitates for a moment, Jonny pulls him down with him.

Something catches Pat’s eye and he glances up at the mantle, where there’s now a fourth stocking with his name on it. Andrée must have had it made for him forever ago, ‘cause it looks just like hers and Bryan’s and Jonny’s, and must have just been waiting for the chance to pull it out. His stomach flips, pleasantly this time, and he grabs a cookie before curling into Jonny. Jonny wraps his arms around him, resting his lips in Pat’s hair and sighing contentedly. “Je t’aime.”

Pat smiles, closing his eyes and listening to Andrée’s gentle voice, trying to pick out the few words he knows.

“Joyeux Noél à tous, et à tous une bonne nuit.”


End file.
